Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
by HarmonyLupin
Summary: eh, something to read while you're cussing at JK Rowling "Write faster, wman! Dammit, write faster!"
1. Boy Who Fell from the Sky... & Went Spla...

Chapter one

Chapter one

THE BOY WHO FELL FROM THE SKY…AND WENT SPLAT

"Petunia! Dudley! I have to talk to you!" shouted Uncle Vernon, charging through the hallway to the kitchen.

Harry knew better than stick around at a time like this. He scrambled upstairs and stopped midway. Harry sat perfectly still on a step and peered through the staircase. From this angle, he could just make out a glimpse of the kitchen.

"What is it, darling?" said Aunt Petunia, innately.

"What'd you buy me?" said Dudley, waddling to his father.

"NOTHING!" roared Uncle Vernon.

Dudley feigned the start of a tantrum, but Uncle Vernon shouted, "NOT NOW!"

Dudley took a step back, glaring contemptuously at him.

"Vernon?! What is going on?" said Aunt Petunia, daunted.

"THE COMPANY WENT BANKRUPT!"

"What?"

"WE LOST TWENTY-FIVE CLIENTS AND GUNNINGS STOCKS PLUMMETED!"

"But how?"

"I DON'T KNOW! THE WORLD'S GOING TO HELL — WHAT DO I CARE? ALL I KNOW IS THAT WE'RE SO BANKRUPT, WE CAN'T EVEN AFFORD RECTIFY WHATEVER THE CAUSE IS!"

"So what do we do?" said Aunt Petunia.

"Does this mean I can't get Zombie Eaters IV? It's coming out next month and I want to — no, I _have to — be the first one at Smeltings to have it!" whined Dudley, preparing to throw a real tantrum._

Harry was amazed that Dudley could keep track of when his video games came out but not even know when Boxing Day was.

"YOU'LL BE LUCKY TO HAVE DINNER!" roared Uncle Vernon.

Dudley was too stunned to speak. He just stared at his father and began bawling.

"What do you mean 'lucky to have dinner'? Surely, we'll manage? What about our savings?" squeaked Aunt Petunia.

"It's all gone," said Uncle Vernon, exasperatedly. He sat down at the table and disappeared from Harry's range of view. "I had to take it out to pay the debts. We're flat out BROKE!"

Sensing another outburst, Aunt Petunia quickly made a cup of tea for her husband. He grunted gratefully.

"About the boy —" he continued, "I don't think we can keep it — "

Dudley stopped bawling and began panicking.

"Not you, son," Uncle Vernon grunted. "Goodness, no. I meant Harry."

Harry craned his neck to see if the Dursleys were dismayed or delighted at the excuse to get rid of him.

"Where can we dump him?" said Aunt Petunia, coldly. "We're his only relatives."

"Don't remind me," said Uncle Vernon, ruefully.

Any hope that the Dursleys were merely hiding their affection for him dissolved from Harry's mind as quickly as it had come.

The next day at breakfast, Uncle Vernon was still fuming about financial problems when the doorbell interrupted him.

"What now?" Uncle Vernon grumbled. "Better not be some damn Girl Scouts or religious nuts. Get the door, Dudley."

"I don't want to."

"Get the door, Harry."

"I don't want to."

Uncle Vernon put his paper down and stared at Harry with bloodshot eyes.

"It was worth a shot," Harry shrugged. He got up and went to answer the door. There was a bald man in a red uniform jacket looking down intently and scribbling on a clipboard.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you Mr. Vernon Dursley — "

He looked up at Harry and stopped. An annoyed expression came over him and he snapped, "Where's your father?"

"Dead. But my Uncle Vernon's here," said Harry, looking down at the bald man. He turned around and called down the hall, "Uncle Vernon! It's for you!"

He walked back into the kitchen and passed Uncle Vernon, who was furious at having his breakfast interrupted. Harry sat down and picked at his carrot, thinking about Hogwarts' steamed casseroles and rich puddings.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY 'EXPIRED WARRANTY'? REPOSSESSED?! I WAS TOLD WE HAD ANOTHER WEEK!"

Harry and Aunt Petunia ran into the front parlor with Dudley trailing behind. Uncle Vernon was arguing with the bald man, who, now that he had turned around, had 'Ray's Repo' stitched on his jacket, in the front parlor.

"What is it, Vernon?" said Aunt Petunia. "Oh, no. They can't! They just can't! What if the neighbors see?!"

All of a sudden, the door flew open and about ten moving men walked in. They started grabbing the furniture in the living room and started putting them in the moving lorry they had waiting outside. 

"Damn bank loans… can't even hold for another month…" Uncle Vernon muttered while two men picked up the big screen television. Harry watched in puzzlement as Dudley's eyes got bigger and bigger with every electronic that was repossessed. 

"Family meeting!" Uncle Vernon growled, herding his family and Harry back into the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon paced about as his family and Harry sat at the table. The refrigerator, china dishes, silverware and Dudley's kitchen television had already been taken.

"Alright. Now, boys… as you can see, we're going through a bit of a rough patch… financially," Aunt Petunia began delicately. "We are going to have to give up a few luxuries just for a while. I hope you— "

A loud crash came from upstairs as the men tried to bring Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's bed downstairs.

"So meanwhile," said Uncle Vernon, struggling to keep his temper and ignore the sound of his home being repossessed, "we're going to live with Marge for a few days. Pack only things of necessity since most of our stuff is going back to the Repo man."

Uncle Vernon stood up while and his chair was promptly taken away. Aunt Petunia, Dudley and Harry stood up, too, watching Uncle Vernon began turn into a nasty shade of purple, a large, Y vein throbbing at the side of his forehead. Their chairs were then also taken away.

"Alright, let's… get… packing…." said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. He herded everyone out of the kitchen and upstairs. "I want to all back here in five minutes ready to leave. Hurry up!"

As Harry was about to follow Aunt Petunia and Dudley upstairs to pack his stuff, Uncle Vernon grabbed him by the collar and pulled him so close to his face that Harry could feel his hot stinky breath down his throat.

"Listen, boy," Uncle Vernon snarled, "there is no damn way you are bringing any of that friggin' magic crap with you to Marge's house. No funny stuff whatsoever, hear me?! And I doubt that Marge's forgotten about you blowing her up! She's probably give you one hell of a hard time, so don't end up making it any worse for yourself!"

Harry said nothing. He felt that this wasn't the time to mention that the Ministry of Magic had modified Aunt Marge's memory, since Uncle Vernon's face was beginning to resemble a purple Mr. Potato Head gone wrong, more and more by the minute. 

"And don't think about trying to sneak your crap into her house because I will personally check your suitcase, boy!" 

A blaring squeal suddenly came down the stairs. The Repo men were taking away all of Dudley's electronics and he was giving up a very good fight.

"No, no! Not my computer!" Dudley bawled, pathetically clutching at the Repo man's leg. "Not my Playstation! No, no — leave portable television, at least! No, no, please, don't!"

Harry rushed upstairs and hastily dumped all of his stuff intohis largest trunk.Knowing Uncle Vernon would check his luggage, Harry crammed his potion ingredients, Hogwarts textbooks, quills and parchment, wand, robes, and, with some effort, his broom, together under his Invisibility Cloak. On top of that, he packed his regular used and lint-covered clothes.

Outside, behind the Repo lorry, was Uncle Vernon's old car. His new company car had also been repossessed.

"Hurry up, boy! Haven't got all day to wait for you!" he snapped. Harry loaded his things into the car boot and got in the backseat beside Dudley.

During the entire ride, no one spoke a word except for Uncle Vernon'sirrational mutterings, though those were to himself. Aunt Petunia swallowed every once in a while when her husband's ranting began to sound schizophrenic, and Harry could actually see the lump in her long skinny throat slide downward slowly, and disappear¾ all from the backseat. Dudley kept pinching Harry, trying to make him retaliate and get in trouble. He was also making faces, but Harry was pretty sure that it was how he normally looked like.

They pulled up against muddy road an hour later. On the porch in front of the big, picket-fenced, white house was a big, beefy woman, waving furiously. Harry shuddered at the bulge of fat jiggling beneath her upper arm, as well as everywhere else.

"Yoo-hoo!" Aunt Marge bellowed as Harry and the Dursleys dragged their luggage towards the house. "Dudders! Give Auntie a kissypoo!"

Dudley groaned, exhausted from lugging the Gameboy he managed to smuggle. Nonetheless, he came waddling to her and let her seize him in a wet kiss on the forehead and face-distorting cheek pinching. When she let him go, a crisp twenty-pound note was tucked into his front pocket.

"Vernon, Petunia, dears," she turned to Aunt Petunia. "So dreadful this hard luck had to come. But you know you three will always be welcomed in my home." She shot a glare at Harry and Uncle Vernon said quickly, "And I'm so terribly sorry to burden you with the boy, but we are his legal guardians so we have to feed him, house him and all that nonsense¾"

"Not necessarily…" Aunt Marge murmured darkly. Then she brightened up again and exclaimed, "All well, done is done! Two deadbeats get themselves killed and burden hard-working, decent people¾ that's how the world works and we might as well accept it." She turned to Harry, grudgingly acknowledging his existence, and growled so low only Harry could hear, "But one stray move and you are dog food. That crackpot St. Whatsit cannot be as effective or as severe as I can be. I am not exaggerating, for you see, I do make my own dog food with my own meat grinder…"

Inside, the house reeked of urine, feces, old newspaper, dog food and dander. It was like living in a doghouse, only ten times larger and ten times smellier. Harry had to tip toe in order not to step on any dog or its mess. Everywhere he looked, there were bulldogs. Wrinkly, short-muzzled faces looked at him from every corner, growling.

"Oh, don't mind them," Aunt Marge said to the Dudleys, "They won't maim decent people." Again she turned to Harry, "Only the crazy, criminal types." 

When her back was turned, Harry rolled his eyes, "this is going to be a long summer holiday." A dog shuffled towards Harry, and lifted its hind leg over his shoe. He sighed as it was accompanied by a thin trickling sound. "Yes. A _very_ long summer holiday."

And indeed it was. Harry had been at Marge's for hardly two weeks, but it felt like months. He was thrown into the cellar, since the cupboard under the stairs was where the bulldogs did their business. Despite that, Harry would've still preferred to be there instead of the rank stink hole called a cellar. It was perpetually damp, moldy and drafty, although there was no window, and smelled like a cesspool. Well, not quite. Cesspools were actually cleaned once in a while. Aunt Marge's cellar wasn't. At night, he could hear the rats and cockroaches scurry across the cement, the ancient and rusted pipes rattle, and the creaking of the house. Harry didn't bother to really unpack; he wasn't planning to make himself too at home. Hedwig's cage remained empty since the first day in the country, like most of the summer, when she was on her nightly haunts, roaming the countryside for what Harry knew not. Otherwise, the she would keep screeching and banging on her cage all night when she wasn't allowed out. 

During Harry's first week back with the Dursleys, Hedwig had knocked her cage over at one o'clock in the morning and escaped. She flew around the entire house, screeching and squawking, pecking at the windows furiously. Meanwhile, Harry spent the night coaxing her to return to her cage while the Dursleys persisted to howling at him.

"If you don't get that owl under control, it's to the taxidermist with her and to the cupboard for you!" Uncle Vernon had roared at Harry.

Harry knew that Uncle Vernon was only bluffing; it would cost him too much to stuff Hedwig and he wasn't going to spend a penny more than necessary on anything even remotely tied to the wizarding world. Besides, at the rate things were going, Harry was probably going to end up back in the cupboard anyway. After Uncle Vernon had been laid off, things were very tense in the Dursley household.

When Harry did get Hedwig back into her cage, she was still raging and had tried to snap Harry's arm off. Since then, he had been secretly letting Hedwig out on her nightly trips to relieve her restlessness.

Now, Hedwig seemed like she was gone for good, at least until September rolled around. Smart bird, Harry thought bitterly. The Dursleys also had him doing chores like feeding, and cleaning after the bulldogs (that infested every nook and corner of the house). He almost longed for Privet Drive again.

I thought bulldogs were bred to be friendly, Harry thought one morning while nursing his latest bites. It was as if those dogs had planned where to bite Harry: wherever it hurt and bled most. _Flush! Swish! _Ugh, he grimaced. Every time someone used the bathroom, he could hear it flush and make it's way down the pipes through the house, releasing its smell into his 'bedroom'.

"I have to get out of here," Harry shuddered, forcing himself not to vomit.

In the kitchen, the Dursleys sat cramped around the table meant for two. Harry almost felt sorry for Aunt Petunia, crammed in the masses of her husband, son and Aunt Marge. That is, until she squawked, "Finally woke up then, huh? Lazy little ingrate. We've been starved!"

"Not to mention my poor babies," said Aunt Marge, cuddling Ripper, her favorite old, ill-tempered bulldog. "Luckily, I just drowned another batch of weaklings; they wouldn't survive with the pathetic service you give, runt."

"Whatever you say," Harry murmured, starting to make breakfast.

"Now, as I was saying," Uncle Vernon said gruffly, "I called the bank yesterday, and they said that their hands are tied until they can sort out the paperwork."

"How long will that take?" chirped Aunt Petunia. "Because it's been forever since I've spied on Mrs. Wilder and the milkman¾"

"I don't know," gritted her husband. That vein on his forehead began growing and pulsing again. "maybe a few more weeks… or months… OR WHENEVER THE HELL THEY DECIDE TO TAKE THEIR PRECIOUS LITTLE DAMN TIME TO ACTUALLY SERVE THEIR CUSTOMERS! OH I OUGHT TO MARCH RIGHT DOWN THERE AND GIVE THEM A PIECE OF MY MIND¾"

"Now, now. We mustn't do anything to spoil our little Dudley's fifteenth birthday!"said Aunt Petunia. "Duddleykins' little friends are coming all the way out here just for him." Dudley squealed happily and then looked sharply at Harry.

"But I don't want him at my party tonight! He'll spoil everything!" Dudley pointed his chubby finger at Harry. Although he was going to be fifteen, Dudley still retained much of his baby fat and instead of growing taller, seemed to grow wider. It was such an interesting phenomenon. 

"Don't worry, pumpkin," Aunt Petunia smiled, "He won't be." She turned to Harry and said sharply,

"You are not going to Dudley's party. We don't want you embarrassing us in front of Dudleykins' little friends. You will stay in your room until tomorrow morning."

"Fine," Harry said indifferently, passing out the plates of scrambled eggs and fried bread. "I'll stay in my _room._"

"Humph! You, boy, are just jealous that Dudders has got such wonderful friends while you are alone and ignored," said Aunt Marge, forcing Ripper to eat the fried bread from her plate. "You're just hungry for company aside from those crazies at your madhouse."

"Especially rat-faced friends who are only there because you bribe and threaten them," Harry said quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied quickly.

"Stupid mutt. Muttering to himself like an underbred chases its tail, that's what it is," Aunt Marge sneered.

"_And, you are going to set up the party. That'll teach you some discipline. Its about time you did some __real chores," Uncle Vernon derided, "Not like watching over the dogs, taking out trash, or cooking, or cleaning or washing dishes, or…"_

Harry dipped the point of his quill into his inkbottle and grumbled. He ran out of ink, again. Harry crept over to his trunk and rummaged through for another bottle. Once he found one and sat down to begin his essay again, his stomach gurgled with a disturbing _slosh-sloshing sound. He hadn't had anything decent to eat except for the leftovers he got, the leftovers from the dogs' food, that is. If it weren't for the tub of Every Flavor Beans and stale Chocolate Frogs Harry saved from last year, he could've starved to death by now. _

But the decaying wizard food hardly did any good for his stomach. Harry was naturally scrawny for his age, but he was a lot thinner than usual lately. Harry was beginning to look like his broomstick, but with glasses of course.

He snuggled deeper into the sparse covers of his cot, trying to escape from the chilly, foul air of the cellar. _Just don't think about the slimy walls… fungus can be healthy, right?_ Harry adjusted the angle of his flashlight. "Thesis… significance of Moos dung's introduction to Potion Brewery… speculative dissertation…" Harry was trying to ignore the clicking of rat's scurrying under his cot (which smelled of sour milk and sweat) when his candle was blown out by a draft.. 

"Damn it!" he cursed. It had taken a fair amount of sneaking to find a matches lying around (Aunt Marge didn't trust him to be near any sort of fire). And now, he had no way have finishing his Potions homework: a five-foot long report on moose Dung. What the hell was up with that? Professor Snape, the Potions Master, was going to have a field day when his most loathed student turned in a report with sixty inches of unintelligible scrawl.

Harry sat there in the pitch-black cellar, putting his things away. "Ugh." Harry had to feel his way around and occasionally grazed across the slimy walls or furry backs of a rat. Then, peering out of the darkness was a pair of glowing eyes. They stared at Harry, those demonic cat eyes.

"H¾Hedwig?" Harry said faintly. "Please be Hedwig and not a mutant rat…please…" he sat there, unmoving. Alright, so he was trapped in a wet,reeking, dark, windowless cellar with wall mildew and, apparently, mutated rats with glowing green eyes. He looked at the 'rat' again. Thoses eyes were too big to be a rat, mutated or not. Whatever the creature was, it purred softly.

Then it was gone.

Harry spent the next afternoon putting up streamers for Dudley's party and preparing dip for twenty people (which Dudley continually tasted and rejected every batch) while he would rather be studying for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. But what did it matter to the Dursleys if Harry was going to take the O.W.L.S this year? What if he _was going to fail and never become a proper wizard?_

As Harry was balancing himself on a rickety stool to hang up the banner, Dudley wandered over to him and kicked the stool's legs, causing Harry to tumble to the ground, tearing the banner in the fall. Dudley gave a loud cry and Aunt Petunia came rushing into the living room.

"What's the matter, honey? " Aunt Petunia asked.

"The idiot tore my banner! Now my birthday is ruined!" Dudley bawled. 

Aunt Petunia looked at the torn red and purple banner and began yelling at Harry,

"How dare you do that! Just because your not invited to Dudley's party and you're jealous of his friends doesn't mean you can ruin his birthday! You wasted all of yesterday making that!"

"Well…" Harry said slyly, "I could fix it with magic."

Harry was lying through his teeth. Hogwarts never stooped as low as to teach their students how to deal with Muggle problems. Besides, he'd be expelled for a third offense.

Harry began to wave his arms aimlessly and mumbling, "Woooo! Woooo! Shmorgusforgin!" 

Dudley screamed and took off as fast as his chubby legs could carry his gut. Just then, Uncle Vernon burst into the room and caught Harry in the middle of his gibberish and Aunt Petunia frozen with a look of fear and mortification.

"You lousy, good-for-nothing scum! What have I told you about do-do-doing… th-that!" Uncle Vernon stammered with fury, "And in Marge's house! Get out of my sight! No dinner!"

Harry ran upstairs meekly. Although he would have to starve tonight, the look on Dudley and Aunt Petunia's face was worth it. Once he got to his room, the doorbell rang. 

Dudley's lackeys, rat faced Piers Polkiss, butt-chinned Roger Conte, and their mothers were on the doorstep. Dudley came waddling to them and they high-fived, guffawing like idiots.

Later on, the party was in the bulldog-crammed backyard. Presents overflowed on the picnic table, Piers shrieking every time a dog came within eyeshot of him, and Harry poking at the hotdogs on the grill. Then the cake was brought out.

It wavered unstably, five layers and six thousand calories too many. It was an unsightly purple and orange monstrosity filled with homemade chocolate (Harry shuddered to think of where or how Aunt Marge got a hold of the materials this far into the country). Fifteen lit candles bunched together on the top layer, melting the cream and garish icing. Uncle Vernon let it slam down in front of Dudley's place at the table. He squealed happily, clapping his meaty little hands together.

"Ooh! It's perfect! Just like a want it," he giggled. Then his face scrunched up in confusion (a very common look for him), "but what's everyone else going to eat for dessert?"

Laughter roared at Dudley's remark.

"Duddleykins is just so witty ditty, isn't he?" Aunt Petunia gushed, pinching his cheeks (it was actually a part of his many chins, but his face was so scrunched up and fleshy, no one could tell). "Mummy's got a clever little boy, yes she does!"

Dudley still looked confused. "Of course I'm¾I'm clever. What does clever mean? Anyway, what _is_ everyone going to eat?"

And on the joke went. Harry wondered whether Dudley's family and friends had noticed that they were actually laughing at his stupidity, because Harry certainly was. 

Aunt Marge stopped laughing, wiping tears from her eyes, and suddenly turned to Harry. "What's wrong with this one? He's got no sense of humor! I think St. Whatsit¾"

"St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys," Uncle Vernon grunted.

"¾is doing any good for him! It's just turning him callous, like one of them hardened criminal types he's around with all the time! Vernon, I think that you need to move him elsewhere¾"

"Yes, and that we'll do at some other time¾"

"¾like my house."

A cold chill swept over. Dudley and his gang stopped stuffing their faces, Uncle Vernon's face turned pale lavender, and Aunt Petunia's teacup fell out of her hands and shattered, her hand still in cup holding position with her pinky sticking out.

"What?" Harry said meekly.

"You heard me!" Aunt Marge barked. "Your hard-working Aunt and Uncle spends lord knows how much to send you to that institute, and it's making you worse than before! So I want you to come live here and actually learn something! That way I can keep an eye on you while you work here on the Bulldog ranch¾"

"But what about school¾"

"You don't need school! You're going to end up like your useless, unemployed, drunk parents no matter how much any of us spend on you! At least they had the sense to get themselves killed rather than have to raise the hopeless lost-cause you are!"

Dudley and the cake exploded.

There was no other way to put it. Dudley was sitting there before his atrocious cake, laughing at Harry, and suddenly both just disappeared with a large bang. Everyone stared, frozen, eyes fixated to the empty seat. Then all eyes turned to Harry.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"

"WHERE IS DUDLEY?"

"YOU DID THAT OCCULT MAGIC CRAP AND KILLED MY BOY!"

Aunt Petunia was running in circles, as if one leg was shorter than the other, babbling shrilly. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge swelled up, eyes bulging, veins pulsing, fists clenched, and mustaches twitching.

"I¾I¾I don't know¾ I didn't mean to¾ I¾I just¾I just¾he was¾the you were¾I¾I" Harry hyperventilated, backing away.

Piers and Roger huddled in a corner, bewildered. Uncle Vernon lifted Harry off the ground by the color and smacked him across the face. Harry fell from his grasp and heard his glasses skitter across the lawn. He was groping for them when he felt someone pull him up by his hair. Aunt Marge growled, "The bitch's mutt will pay."

It began raining. But it wasn't water that showered the entire countryside; bits of cake, purple and orange icing, and cheap candles rained like hail, falling in clumps all over the place. The blue sky turned into a whimsical pastel swirl of rosy pinks and yellow, dimming the countryside extending beyond the vast cake-covered hillsides. Harry looked up at an unusually large piece of cake began to fall, getting larger by the second.

"That's no cake!" he shouted, pointing at it. The Dursleys ceased cursing and looked up just in time to see a fat child plummeting down and hit the ground with a splat, creating a large crater in Aunt Marge's yard.

"Son!" Uncle Vernon and his sister helped Dudley up, who seemed unharmed¾at least, physically unharmed. The boy began babbling, his eyes darting back and forth, and his fat jiggling.

"Dudders! What happened?"

"Where were you?"

"I¾I¾I don't know!" he stuttered. "I was¾I was laughing at the freak over there, then I¾then I blacked out! Next thing I know, I was¾I was¾ " Dudley stopped his ranting and became disturbingly solemn. He whispered in a low, harsh voice no one had ever heard him use. "I went to Hell, and back."

"WHAT?!"

Uncle Vernon's yellow eyes bulged as he stared at his son, then turned to Harry.

"Oh bugger, not again," he groaned as Uncle Vernon advanced on him.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY BOY? TURNED HIM INTO ONE OF YOU LUNATICS, DIDN'T YOU? ANSWER ME!"

"I don't know!" Harry shouted back. "But what I do know is that Dudley and the rest of you can just go to hell for all I care! Oh wait! HE DID!"

Harry couldn't take it anymore. The Dursleys' bellowing, Dudley's new dark side and that freak storm! It was just too much! He ran to the cellar and grabbed his trunk. His anger and shock provided him with unprecedented power. Everything seemed to happen without a wand or conscious thought. Doors exploded before him. The trunk, owl cage and upstairs' walk against gravity should've weighed him down, but he felt as if nothing could deter him from leaving that disgusting hellhole. 

"Get back here you little coward!" Aunt Marge screamed, turning purple. "Come back and face this mess!"

"Harry!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, "Don't you DARE ever come back to Marge's or my home! You ungrateful little…" he, fortunately, never finished his sentence as, with a glare, Harry unknowingly sent his uncle flying toward the other side of the yard, slamming into a wall. The picket fence exploded before him, post by post, and Harry marched into the road, stuck out his wand arm and hailed the Knight Bus.

***

"What's wrong with yeh?" said the driver with a careless nod in Harry's direction. Harry saw with relief that Ernie Prang, the driver from his last trip was nowhere to be found, and nor was the conductor, Stan Shunpike. Here, he could again hide his identity and not have to deal with that Harry Potter enthusiast nonsense.

"Nothing much," Harry lied as he prepared to heave his things into the bus. With a start, he realized that his bags and Hedwig's still empty cage were floating by his side. They fell with a thump at Harry's shocked gaze. Luckily, the driver noticed none of this. He was intensely interested in the weather, not Harry. 

"Lookie boy! One of them Rage Storms. So startlin'!" He goggled at the raining cake bits, scratching off a dried piece of icing on his side mirror.

"A what storm?" said Harry. 

"A Rage Storm. Yeh know, when a witch or wizard gets real miffed, they start screwing up the weather without meaning to." The bus driver scratched his head. "I fink 'ere's a Muggle Interference Law about causing one of these. Well, you can bet whoever caused this is gonna get into some mighty a big mess!"

Harry flattened his bangs and nodded. "That's just… wonderful."

"Oh! How impolite of me! My name is Cromwell! I'll help you with those things." Cromwell jumped lightly off the bus and helped Harry carry his things inside. Taking one last look at the storm, he let out a long whistle and shut the door.

Once inside, Harry looked around. He was the only passenger. "Lucky fing you didn't have to go through that Rage Storm. They can get pretty bad, depending on how wound up the wizard is," said Cromwell. Harry broke out in a cold sweat. If the Ministry hadn't caught on yet, they were going to, and there was no way he could shirk out of this one.

Cromwell looked at him suspiciously. Harry gulped. "Come on, lad, let's have it out." Cromwell tapped his foot impatiently. So he knew! Harry was about to blab it all, his true identity, how he sent Dudley to Hell, the Rage Storm, everything, when Cromwell held out his hand, rubbing his index finger with his thumb. Oh wait! A light bulb suddenly flickered dimly in Harry's mind. Reaching deep into his trunk, he produced eleven silver sickles. "Diagon Alley, please." 

"There now! Thought yeh could try and get a free ride outta ol' Cromwell , eh?" Cromwell grumbled to himself. "As I was saying," he continued, all smiles once more, "lucky you didn't have to go through that Rage Storm. One big chunk of whatever that is and yer gone. Yeh do look like a weak lad." 

Harry took a good look at himself. Cromwell probably thought he had been walking by, and, wanting to avoid the storm, and had hitched a ride. His clean clothes and composed appearance seemed to attest to that. He also noticed a few other things about himself. No longer small and undersized for his age, he was, instead, gangly and tall. He was still a lightweight, but he could feel muscles building up in his arms and legs. He glanced at his hands and saw they were white. He must be really pale then. That would explain why Cromwell thought him weak. 

During his first month back with the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were taking his measurements to find out how much to alter Dudley's overused clothes, only to discover an unusual growth spurt.

"Damn you, boy!" Vernon Dursley had spat.

"Well _I can't help it if I'm growing taller!" Harry protested. "I think it's a side affect to aging, you know. We humans tend to grow, especially during adolescence — "_

"YOU ARE ANYTHING BUT HUMAN!" Uncle Dursley roared back. Harry noticed an unsightlyvein that bulged in his neck and forehead.. 

"Now, now… you know what the doctor said," Aunt Petunia squawked. "Just keep your temper and your cholesterol down — "

"How does he expect me to be a healthy man with that — that — that _diet_ crap? It nearly killed Dudley!"

His wife then pursed her lips tightly, as irritation mounted into her eyes. Uncle Vernon backed away. He inhaled severely, lowered his voice and turned to his nephew again. "Besides — its because I feed you too damn well!"

Aunt Petunia clucked in agreement, as she swung a tape measure over her gooseneck.

"Four inches," she shook her head in disbelief, "Four inches in hardly a year! It's just not natural!"

"Nothing's natural about the boy, Petunia. A FREAK OF NATURE is what he is!" Uncle Vernon growled.

She then raised her thinly drawn-on eyebrows and began pressing her lips together in accumulating impatience again. Her husband growled in surrender.

"I suppose wizard growth spurts are a little quicker than Muggle—" Harry had begun.

"Don't you dare say the 'W' word!" bellowed Uncle Vernon, his face turning maroon. "None of it! And just look at yourself — a huge disgrace! Tall and scrawny, just like your vagrant of a father!"

But as Harry grew taller, Dudley had simply grown wider. This made it quite hard for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to fit Harry into Dudley's hand-me-downs.

"And another thing, COMB YOUR HAIR! You'd think that those people at that — that _school would know a way to untangle that bird nest on your head. Maybe I should stop feeding you and you'll stop growing…"_

Then Harry sighed. He missed Hogwarts, where most people actually didn't mind his presence.

Are you listening to me?!" said Uncle Vernon irately.

"Huh?" said Harry. Naturally, he had stopped listening after a while.

Uncle Vernon's purple head shook with fury. "Typical! Lazy bloke — I'll teach you! THAT IS it! No new clothes from _me!"_

Harry scoffed at "new".

"Just be grateful that you have any clothes at all!" roared Uncle Vernon, and the two left, slamming the bedroom door.

Harry, at the end of his reminiscence, suddenly laughed to himself as it all clicked. Of course! He was going through puberty! Wait. That sounded very disturbing.

He glanced down at his jeans. They were still wide and baggy, but the cuffs fell short a couple inches above his ankles. Harry made a mental note to stop by Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. At least with Hogwarts' robes, no one would notice.

"So now…" said Cromwell as he maneuvered the bus with all the skill and grace of an inebriated, blind cow. "What's yer name, laddie? Whatcher doin' in these Muggle parts? Awful dull ain't they?" 

Harry racked his brain. He couldn't very well be Neville Longbottom again. "Um… my name is… Draco Malfoy!" Dammit! I'm a perfect moron, thought Harry. Where had _that_ come from?

The bus driver recoiled. "Malfoy, eh?" he laughed tensely. "Well… that's wonderful… sir!"

"What's wrong with you?" 

"Let's just say I've heard a thing or two about yer clan," he chuckled nervously. "Of course, it's all good, Mr. Malfoy…" he ranted and then smartly fell quiet.

The ride was progressing in this silent fashion when a siren sounded throughout the bus. "So sorry, Mr. Malfoy," babbled Cromwell. "It seems the Ministry Task Force is pulling us aside. I'm sure it's nothin'! Nothin' to do with you! No, course not…" he continued along this trail, even as a sleek black car pulled up beside them.

"Harry? Harry! You there?" cried a gruff, familiar voice. 

"Yes? Do I know you?" questioned Harry, peering through the window. A tall, brawny man incrumpled, official-looking black robes who had a very clean shave (along with some minor nicks and cuts, Harry noticed) stepped out of the car.

"'arry?" the bus driver repeated, confused. "Thar's no 'arry 'ere Mister, sir. There's only," his voice dropped into a theatrical whisper, "a Malfoy!"

"No," said the Ministry Troop positively. "This young man you have sitting in your bus is Harry Potter! Harry, would you please come with me?"

"Why?" Harry asked anxiously, stepping off the bus. He was sure that he was in a dead heap of trouble. All well, if he had to pay a fine with his entire fortune, then he could drop out of Hogwarts and become a penniless drifter… cool…

"I need to take you to the Ministry," the Ministry Troop said composedly. "By the way, my name's… Mr. Black." He winked.

Harry's panic-stricken face contorted into a broad smile. Sirius' dark eyes glinted in the moonlight mischievously. He was much more heartier than when Harry saw him last, which was when he wandered about as a fugitive and fed off rats. Though he lost his sunken eyes and the perpetual bags under them, there was a gaunt and sadness in Sirius that Azkaban had left behind inside of him, like a scar from his past.

Harry raced up to his godfather. "How did you find me?" he shouted excitedly. Cromwell slumped in his chair.

"Harry Potter?" the bus driver said in a daze. "It really is you then! And… you didn't flag me down because you wanted to avoid the storm… yeh… yeh caused it! Oh my…" Harry was surprised. Cromwell wasn't as dense as he had formerly appeared. 

"Come on Harry," said Sirius, trying to keep a straight face. "Let's get you someplace safe! Gotta take you to Fudge and stuff, blah blah blah — thanks a bunch, Mr. Bus Driver! Buh-bye!"

*next chapter: maybe, depending on reviews.


	2. Cosmo

chapter two

chapter two

COSMO

As soon as the Knight Bus was out of view, Sirius pulled over, leaving the black Ministry car halfway on the sidewalk.

"Aw bugger. Gotta work on that," he shrugged. "Come on Harry, out! out!"

Bewildered, Harry got out of the car. Sirius slammed his door shut, drew his wand out, and looked around, making sure no Muggles were about. He brandished his wand and said, "_Ostendit Verus !_"

The sleek, black limousine squeezed together, turning into a chunky little car, and the black paint-job flashed and turned into a bright lime green. Sirius beamed at his new green Volkswagen Beetleä.

Harry stared at the garish, elfin car. "Huh. Cute, Sirius."

His godfather smiled, full of pride. "I transfigured it myself. Surprise that I still remember anything from Hogwarts after twelve years in…"

He trailed off and Harry took this as a signal to get back inside the car. "Cool car! Well we better be getting along now."

Sirius, who was staring off into space forlornly, shook it off and got into the driver's seat. Turning on the ignition, he looked into the rear mirror at Harry and said, "You know, Harry, I've been watching you ever since back at the Muggle house. I was trying to find the right time to come get you, but they you were either doing some homework or the Muggles were screaming their bloody heads off at you."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I don't see how you could live with those Muggles. They seem so… bizarre," said Sirius, checking the window to his right as he backed out of the curb.

"They're not so bad if you get used to them," said Harry, buckling his seatbelt.

Sirius grunted doubtfully.

Harry leaned back. The interior of the Volkswagen was much more capacious than he had anticipated from it's outer appearance. But then again, Sirius looked like an actual gentleman — Ministry Troop even — and not the starving mess he was last year.

They drove away from the Muggle country and towards Diagon Alley.

The ride was rather awkward. Sirius had only learned how to drive (Harry didn't ask how) and was still unsure of London's traffic code. The car constantly swerved into the wrong lane and Harry marveled at the language Muggle drivers would use.

After they saw a car crash site somewhere near, Harry held his breath every time Sirius swerved or stopped too late. 

"I'll never understand how those Muggles can stand these death traps," Sirius growled. "It's like being trapped in a metal can of death."

The green Beetle parked in front of a dingy pub, the Leaky Cauldron, and Sirius and Harry went inside. 

"Er, Sirius? Are you sure you should park right in front of the door?" said Harry tentatively. "People might want to, you know, get through…" 

Sirius gave him a puzzled look, then shrugged. 

"Too bad for them."

Inside, Harry, Sirius and Tom, the wizened landlord, were the only ones there aside from an old witch leaning on the bar counter.

"I do hope Hogwarts serves better food or I am going to weep," she said in a surly tone, then left, wafting the smell of cabbages.

Tom, beaming, rushed over to Harry and Sirius, and shouted,

"My, my! Harry Potter! Staying here for the remainder of the holidays, I presume?"

"Yes, and I have a — a guest," Harry said, motioning at Sirius.

Tom nodded at Harry and Sirius, whom he didn't seem to recognize, and led them to a room upstairs.

"Here you go, Mr. Potter! Room twelve is free," Tom said, leading Harry and Sirius into the room at the end of the hall.

"Thanks," Sirius murmured.

The room was pleasantly inviting; there were two oak-polished canopy beds and hardwood furnishings, and the sunlight poured in from a wide window.

"If you two ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask!" said Tom, giving his final bow, and closing the door as he left.

Harry put Hedwig's empty cage by the windowsill (just in case she came back) and Sirius threw the trunks onto the two beds.

"Well, that about does it," Sirius grunted. "Tomorrow, let's head on over to Gringott's and get your stuff."

"Alright," said Harry, sitting down on his bed. He took a contemplative pause. "Sirius?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Where have you been staying this summer? You weren't running around Europe, were you?"

"Naw, I'm getting too old for that. I was lying low at Remus' place. In fact," Sirius continued as though he just remembered something, "I think you're going to have a very interesting year."

Harry shuddered. "The last time someone said that, I did, and nearly got myself killed… But Cedric did."

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"I'll keep you posted on my situation during the year," Sirius said, breaking the tension.

"But Sirius, aren't you staying at Professor Lupin's?" said Harry.

"Er… no. It'll be too risky to stay at his place too long. Besides, I've got to keep moving around."

Harry sighed.

"But I'll stay here with you until you get on the Hogwarts Express," said Sirius, forcing a smile. "And once the entire Dark Lord mess is over, the Ministry'll probably clear my name."

Harry tried to look cheerful. "I suppose it's better than nothing."

The night air was cool and soft, and a mild breeze rustled the crisp, yellow leaves of the nearby forest, flowing through Harry's window. The long window curtains fluttered, brushing Harry's face gently. He blinked, waking up. It was barely midnight.

Harry sat up, stretching a bit, and fumbled about his bed stand. He sighed, staring off into the distance, his glasses now lying on the bridge of his nose. The sky was dark and crisp, each star twinkling against the black mass sharply. The pearly orb of a full moon hung above the earth, glowing milky-white. Gray clouds rolled across the heavens lazily, heavy with rain, and impelled by the indolent breeze.

A drop of water hit the windowsill. Pit. Another. Pat. And another. Pit. More raindrops begin to pelt down. Pit-Pat. Pit-pit-pat. Soon, drops of water shower Diagon Alley. Pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat-pit-pat…Harry laid his down and took his glasses off. Pit-pat-pit-pat…His eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. As the river of drizzling rain rolled down along the slope of the street, Harry drifted off , and a distant wolf howl echoed in his ears.

***

_It was maybe four in the morning when the rain really began to pour down, pelting the earth silently. The sky was still pitch black except for the very vague, gray glow of the struggling dawn. We were dashing through a train station towards a scarlet steam engine, splashing puddle water everywhere, not that it mattered. My gray cloak sagged; the hem was filthy and drenched from the puddles I dragged it through, street after street, and town after town. But we had no choice. He was going to get us if we didn't run. My guardian's fur was soaked, but he kept running, dragging two rattling trunks. His paws are probably killing him. My boots squeak and slush, soggy with rain water._

_I was hauling an owl cage and a blue trunk clunkered beneath it. But before we reached the bellowing train, another figure appeared behind us. The figure had the dark outline of a tall and skeletally thin man. I shuddered._

_When the cryptic figure stepped into the dim light of a flickering lamppost, his eyes glowed like red coals protruding from a pasty white skull. Two slits replaced a nose above its thin, scaly lips, twisted in some sort of cruel smirk. When the thing raised its unnaturally bony and long fingered hands, several more black-robed figures stepped into the light from behind him. Oh bugger._

_"Thought you could get away, hmm? Well, it isn't that simple my dear," the figure addressed me. My guardian growled, baring his fangs. I hugged the owl cage close to my chest, tightening my grip. My head was spinning with fatigue, soaked in sweat and rain, and my knees weak from running all night. They give in and I fell to the ground._

_"No one who steals the powers of the Dark Lord can escape unpunished!" he continued passionately. His glowing eyes narrowed into thin crimson slits as they focused in on me. Though my face hidden behind my cloak, I trembled with fear and anticipation. No, I won't give him the satisfaction to see me weak. Never._

_"They are both caught eventually…" he said darkly. "Now do as I say. You are the key to my true immortality and you will get it for me."_

_"I rather die a humiliatingly slow death than do anything for you — "_

_"And that you will," said the Dark Lord. "Or should I get him to do it instead? And then kill him right in front of you? Then it will be your fault that he dies, as it has been your fault for every bit of his suffering…"_

_"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" I begin to sob. I never meant to hurt Harry… I never knew… but it was my fault…_

_"Yes, I shall fool him into getting me true immortality, kill him in front of your very eyes, and then kill you, too," the Dark Lord nodded._

_"GO TO HELL…" I hissed, scrambling to my feet. The Dark Lord's followers tried to seize us but we fought back fiercely. I kicked a Death Eater squarely in the chest, sending him to the ground. Ducking, I missed a hex and sweep-kicked someone's legs. She slipped, swearing, and hit the pavement. Swinging my leg into the air, I slam into another one, and rebounded drop kicking another Death Eater. Enough stalling. Finally, after searching the folds of my cloak, I got hold of my wand and scream,_

_"Crucio!"_

_Dammit, I missed. I tried again._

_"Crucio! CRUCIO!"_

_I thought I hit someone this time, but they all closed in before I could do anything. I thrust my arm into a Death Eater's face with a left-cut jab as I tried to get free. My guardian rammed into his side and I was released. Then he pounced to the side, circling another Death Eater. A deep growl was rumbling in his throat. It grew, and his anger grew with it. The gray hair on his back piled itself into a long crest. Every white tooth in his head bared itself. In a blind rage, he sprang. There was a hoarse howling, baying, screaming, and the click of snapping teeth. My guardian dodged, parried, dived and snatched, striking for the enemy's throat like a snake. Dammit. I didn't make nearly enough Wolfsbane. This could get very bad._

_I made the mistake of watching him fight and letting my guard down; someone sneaked up behind me and clasped her hand around my neck, digging her nails into me. I screamed, clawing at her arm. She tightened her grip and hissed in my ear, "You'll never win, girl… the Dark Lord shall slaughter you…" _

_Water… everywhere… drowning… My cloak was heavy and soaked, clinging to my body; my wet hair plastered to my face. With a growl, I lunged forward, flinging the Death Eater over my head. She hit the ground face first. More came at us. I swung my leg around, hitting two of them in the stomach. Half of them collapsed as I Stupefied them. My guardian clambered onto another Death Eater's back, snapping at his neck and digging his nails into his back. I waved my wand all over the place, screaming out every curse and hex I knew. Someone caught my wand and was trying to pry it away. Swearing, I drew my arms together and pivoted them, launching off on my right leg. My opponent and I flipped in the air in a full rotation. He fell, crashing into pavement, wandless. I landed on my feet._

_A burly Death Eater came bungling at me, running headfirst and aiming to strangle my throat. I ducked and he missed, flipping over my back and into one of his comrades. Another lunged at my torso, but I rolled over, and she came crashing down. A Death Eater fought out of his Stupefied state and threw a Crucius Curse my way. I dodged it, and pivoted around him. I threw my arms around his neck, head locked him and kneed his back, forcing his legs to strike out at the others who were after me. But no matter how much my guardian and I fought, they still kept coming. He snarled at them, foaming at the mouth. Definitely not enough Wolfsbane._

_The full moon waned as the enormous black rain clouds rolled over. The rain continued to beat down harder than ever and the single fog lamp finally lost its strength. With a crisp fizzing noise, it went dead, plunging my world into darkness. _

_The train platform was pitch black and all that could be heard was the pounding rain muffling the faint cries in the struggle. My guardian returned to his true form. A sudden lightning bolt broke out of the black sky and onto the wet earth, illuminating my owl cage as it came crashing onto the platform's concrete._

_My elbow broke into someone's side as I felt an invisible bind snake around my ankles. I fell down, hitting the concrete, hard. I pocketed my wand before my arms, too, were bound. The Death Eaters swarmed around me like bats, forcing me in front of the Dark Lord. My guardian, kneeling beside me, was also restrained. His eyes were dark and grave, shadowed by his glasses. _

_Once we were seized, the Dark Lord drew out a wand from his robe and began caressing it. My shoulders shook violently as I tried to fight the invisible handcuffs. They only got tighter, cutting into my wrists, and stopping the blood flow. Soon, my hands went numb._

_"No, no, no. There is no use in fighting it," the Dark Lord said to us in a menacing tone. _

_I shielded my head with my bound arms. I could feel the blisters forming and the pounding rain soak me to the very core of my bones. My scraped knees screamed with pain and fresh infection. The Dark Lord roared Avada Kedavra! as he brought the wand down onto me and green sparks flew everywhere. I heard a detached piercing scream flooding the empty train station, accompanying a sinister cackle and the pouring rain._

***

At that precise moment, Harry awoke with a startle, not too far away from King's Cross Station; he was in the same city. The scar on his forehead was glowing brightly, but he couldn't see it. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Evil and pain rang silently in his ears. Harry felt his racing heart turn cold and drop, and his breath fall short. Panic and adrenaline coursed through his blood. It was as if his head was plunged into a tub of iced water — shock… what was happening? Confusion…why was this happening? It hurt… who was she? Pain…. 

Hermione? Ginny? Whoever she was, he knew her… somehow…

Harry sat up and watched the bullet-like raindrops abuse the battered window. Slowly, the pounding rain lulled him back to a restless sleep.

***

_The Dark Lord cackled as the life was draining out of me, his moaning victim, ignoring that fact that I did not die instantly as the curse dictates. He enjoyed causing a slow and painful death too much to care. A thin bloodstain appeared on my left sleeve and quickly became a scarlet blotch as my arm received the full blast. _

_Without warning, a snow owl suddenly flew screeching down from out of nowhere. It landed onto the Dark Lord's skull and began pulling at his scalp when its sharp talons clasp around the pasty skull. The other black-robed figures began pointing their own wands at the owl as the Dark Lord wailed in pain. As they were distracted, my guardian retrieved his wand and shouted, "Frigidus!" clutching the chain at his neck. _

_Everyone and everything froze in place except for the snow owl and us. Even the rain froze into droplets suspending in midair and the smoke from the steam engine froze into white puffs. We gathered our things and hurried into the train. I ran, staggering, and dragging my useless legs. My scraped knees were raw with pain, my joints aching. With a clumsy gallop, I board the train behind him. Then he shouted, "Proceedum!"_

_And with that, everything unfroze and the scarlet train began trudging along the tracks. _

_"Stop them!" the Dark Lord moaned once he realized what had happened. My owl had left red and bloody scars on his scalp when it let go to fly after the train. The Dark Lord's followers began running alongside the train, but failed when the steam engine began to pick up speed. _

_"You won this battle, but you will never win the war! Hear me?! HEAR ME?!" the Dark Lord roared. "I will find you! I will slaughter you horribly, girl! And everyone you hold dear! Especially Harry Potter!"_

_Soon, the huge train became a red speck as it raced into the countryside, ripping through the somber rain._

***

Harry jerked awake the next morning in a cold sweat sometime around dawn with his head was pounding. His scar burned intensely; the hot, searing pain was cutting into his skull, numbing his brain. Harry let out an agonizing howl and clutched his forehead. 

Then afeeling of dread rushed through his spine. The only time it felt like this was when Voldemort was near or up to trouble, like during his battle with Harry last year at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. 

But then again, it could have had something to do with the peculiar dream he had last night. Harry couldn't really remember much of it, but he recalled hooded figures and bright, green light — the same green light he saw the night his parents were killed. 

The pain eventually left entirely, as though it was never there in the first place. Harry wiped his sweaty forehead and put his glasses on. He sat up and looked around the dark room. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the familiar shapes of his room. The moonlight castled eerie shadows of Hedwig's cage on the windowsill and his prized Firebolt propped next to it. Sirius snored loudly, his bulky form rising and descending as he breathed. A chilly breeze snaked in from the open window and Harry shivered.

Harry woke up early the next day, since he couldn't get back to sleep, and eager to do his school shopping and wander around Diagon Alley. He had a huge breakfast of bacon, scrambled eggs, hash browns and a Muenster pumpernickel. It was the first real meal Harry had had since he was at Aunt Marge's. He put the Galleons, silver Sickles and bronze Knuts that they got at Gringotts early at dawn (the lines weren't as long) into his moneybag and began to leave when Sirius shouted through a mouthful of eggs, 

" 'member to get yer school books and supplies first!"

Harry felt oddly comforted at Sirius' fatherly comment. He smiled at Sirius and nodded.

Harry headed to Flourish and Blotts, resisting the urge to squander his money at Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor or Levulose's Sweets. The smell of fresh pastries and the giant tubs of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans in the store windows seemed to beckon at Harry.

"Buy me…school supplies aren't _that important…"_

Harry finally fought off his sweet tooth and went inside Flourish and Blotts. The store was packed with books in every corner and smelled of ancient paper and wood. The manager glanced up at him and asked, "Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded.

"What year?"

"Fifth."

The manager scanned through Harry's crumpled booklist and led him to a wall of Advanced Magic Studies. He handed Harry a copy of _Advanced Defense Against Dark Arts and Magic by Tremble N. Quiver and __Talk to the Hand: a Guide to Palmistry by Phil Angie.___

"Wait here," the manager said to Harry briskly and dodged to another part of the store. Harry paced back and forth, skimming any books that caught his eye. 

After almost fifteen minutes, Harry began to go look for the manager. He went around in circles, going in and out of isles that looked exactly the same. Harry was about to give up and double back when a huge black book fell from a top shelf and in front of Harry's feet. Harry picked it up and read the page it was opened to:

… move silently quiet and deftly despite its large size. The Nundu also possesses a breath that causes a plaguing disease deadly virulent enough to eliminate entire villages, and have never been subdued by fewer than a hundred skilled and licensed wizards working together.

Occamy

Originating in Far East and India, the Occamy is a plumed, two-legged creature with a serpentine body. Reaching up to fifteen feet, they feed mostly on rats and foul birds, but have also been known to carry off monkeys, and possibly humans. They are aggressive to all who approach it and particularly protective of its purest, softest silver eggs.

Phoenix

This magnificent, swan-sized, scarlet red creature has a long golden tail, beak and talons. Phoenix nest on mountain peaks and are found in China, Egypt, and India. A Phoenix lives to an immense age, otherwise forever, as it can regenerate bursting into flames when body begins to fail and rising again from ashes as chick. Theseherbivores, being gentle and never known to kill, also have the ability to disappear and reappear at will. Its magical song brings courage to those with pure hearts and strikes fear to heart of impure. A famous legend tells of an Order of…

Before Harry got to turn to the next page, the book snapped shut, blowing a puff of old dust into his face. The manager snatched it away and sighed exasperatedly, "Don't waste your time reading such foolery."

"What's so foolish about it?" said Harry, eyeing the spine of the book, which read in extremely tiny gold print: _The Very Complete Alphabetical Dictionary of Super Duperly and Ultra Rare and/or Dangerous Beasts That are Very Pricelessly Valuable for They are Rare and/or Beasts that May and Probably Will Maim and Kill You if They Got the Chance So You'd Be Better Off Not Reading This and Becoming a Paranoid Neurotic: Special Completely Unabridged and Repetatively Redundant Edition._

"It's just a collection of old fairy tales and such. I don't recommend that you waste time reading up on such horridly written literature. Do you realize how many people have returned a copy of these books? They believe that it is much too redundant and eventually boring, and I must say I agree!" the manager replied tartly.

He put the book back on a high shelf (though Harry could easily have gotten it, due to his sudden growth spurt) and handed Harry his copies of _The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five by Miranda Goshawk__, A Beginner's Guide to Human Transfiguration by Cathmor Squain__ and _A Charmed Life of Charms _by Charisma Enchanda._

"Oh come on!" Harry griped "If that's the reason, then why won't you let me buy it anyway? Why do you care if it's not particularly well-written?"

The manager sighed. "Fine. Seeing as you're Harry Potter and all, fine. You want to know the real reason?" he dropped his voice so that Harry had to lean in very close. "This book is cursed." He turned to the back of the book. He lifted the book's hand-made binding and revealed the inside of the book's leather covering. "The Dark Mark," he whispered fearfully. And indeed, he was right. The Dark Mark glowed faintly, radiating the feeling of evil. Harry swore he could hear the snake hiss faintly, "Get the book… it isss your dessstiny… you mussst find out… the truth…" For whatever reason, this only made Harry want to buy the book even more.

"There," the manager said in his normal voice. "Now you know. So get your books and go away."

Harry tried again. "I promise I won't return the book — "

"No. didn't you hear me? It's cursed!" he warned. "I don't want anyone finding out and suing my bum off — "

"But I promise I won't —"

"But — "

"Zip it."

"I — "

"I said zip it."

"I just — "

"Zip it good — "

"Stop that — "

"I present to you, exZIP-IT A!"

"Fine! Fine," said Harry, surrendering. "You know, you are a very annoying and horrid little man."

Harry left the bookstore, swearing at the manager under his breath, and headed to Madame Malkin's. Once he returned outside again, sporting a pair of new and long black robes, he had an impulse to head over to the Owl Emporium. Inside, it was cool and dark. The dozens of glowing eyes peering from within the lined cages set the hair on Harry's neck on end. The somber undercurrent of hooting didn't help.

Harry found the sales clerk's table hidden in the corner with the only window. The clerk's face was hidden behind an issue of the Daily Prophet he was reading. Harry cleared his throat loudly and the clerk looked up.

"'Choo want?" he said in a scratchy and high-pitch voice.

"Stan? Stan Shunpike?" said Harry when he realized whose voice it was. 

"Neville, ol' boy! Din't rec'nize you there! Been a while, ain't it?" Stan winked.

"What are you doing here? I thought you worked on the Knight Bus," said Harry.

"Only at night. Work 'ere the rest o' my day. As I said 'fore, 'choo want?"

"Well, my owl's been acting pretty strange lately and I was wondering if you could tell me why," Harry said.

"'Ow's it been actin'?" Stan asked nonchalantly, going back to his paper.

"Well, she's been out for quite a bit this summer and pretty restless in her cage. I don't know, she seems detached," Harry informed Stan.

"Righto. I fink that owl of yours' prob'ly restless 'cos it's 'er matin' season, 's all."

Harry stared at him for a while and finally said, "Oh, thanks."

"Mmm," Stan grunted, "Wonder where ol' Rita Skeeter is… ain't seen 'er writin' for a while." 

"'Bye then!" Harry said, ignoring his comment.

"'Bye, Neville!" said Stan, taking out some parchment and a quill. "Now go 'way. I've got a letter to work on. _Dear Slim_…"

Harry left the emporium, pondering about what Stan had said. 

At least nothing's wrong with Hedwig, Harry thought to himself, but what am I supposed to do now? 

Harry began walking back to the Leaky Cauldron, taking no notice of which direction he was going in, when a quick and hairy blur pounced onto him and pinned him to the concrete. Harry began screaming as he felt the thing's sharp claws digging into his shoulders. The creature's hot stale breath smothered his face. When Harry managed to open his eyes, he was met with two sets of glistening white sharp teeth and saliva dripping from them.

"Hey, Cosmo likes you!" a voice called to Harry. 

Harry stood up slowly when the thing jumped off of him. Harry, still shaking, saw that the voice belonged to a freckly redhead.

"_Ron! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" breathed Harry, panting for air._

"I know," Ron laughed. Next to him was a tiny Jack-Russell Terrier, panting happily. It's brown and white coat looked old and worn, but it's brown eyes danced with plenty of life.

"Just got him last week. Took a bit of convincing, but mum finally gave in," Ron said, petting the dog. "Poor old bloke. Nearly got run over when George found him in the street."

"Uh cute," Harry said, also petting Cosmo on the head as he drooled all over his sneakers.

Cosmo looked just like any old over-hyper Jack Russell Terrier, except for a sharply forked tail.

"Ron? What's wrong with Cosmo's tail?" asked Harry, delicately.

"Nothing," Ron frowned. "Oh, I forgot to tell you! Cosmo's a Crup."

"A crap?" Harry said dubiously.

"No, a _Crup. You know, a wizard dog," said Ron. Sensing the uncertainty in Harry, he continued. "Crups are dead useful. They'll eat anything, especially gnomes and tyres. That's why mum decided to let me keep him. They're also loyal to wizards and ferocious to Muggles."_

"Then why did Cosmo try to kill me?" said Harry, eying the Crup.

"He was just playing — weren't you, ol' boy?" said Ron,mussing the fur on his dog's shabby coat. "At least, I think he was. Cosmo's probably a mutt. That'd explain why he's so…unbalanced."

Harry and Ron looked at Cosmo, who was chasing his tail, eventually falling over. He got up and performed the same ritual five times.

"Unbalanced, you say?" Harry said, petting the dizzy Crup.

Harry and Ron walked over to the Leaky Cauldron, telling each other about any recent news.

"You're lying!" Ron exclaimed in an audible whisper when Harry told him about Sirius staying with him.

"Here? In Diagon Alley? _In your room? But what if he's caught?"_

"That's the thing; no one seems to recognize him at all. Amazing how a shave and neat clothes can hide who a person really is," Harry said as they reached the pub.

"Wow. So I can actually meet him?" Ron said, struggling to get Cosmo away from a stray black cat.

"I guess, if Sirius is all right with it," Harry said.

"Down, boy! Heel! Sit! Uh, stay!" Ron stammered, yanking violently on Cosmo's leash. 

When Ron finally got Cosmo under control, Harry glanced back at the tail of a stray cat disappearing around the corner into a dark side street. That tail looked much too big to be that of a normal-sized cat…

Harry shrugged it off. He, Ron and Cosmo went inside the pub and headed upstairs.

After the formalities between Sirius and Ron, Hedwig swooped in through the window, threw a fat envelope at Harry and returned to her cage, promptly falling asleep.

"I don't even want to know what you've been doing, girl," Harry muttered, opening his envelope. He poured the letters into a pile on the bed and began reading them one by one.

_ _

_Harry,_

_Guess what! Guess! Oh, come on, just guess! Fine, be that way! Alright, alright, I'll tell you. I made prefect! PREFECT! For Gryffindor! Imagine how good that'll look on my records! I can't breath! Just got the letter! My hands are shaking like mad. The badge looks so shiny… I need to borrow some of Percy's books… A PREFECT! Can you imagine?! By the way, I haven't gotten you your birthday gift yet, but I'll find something! It's just been so chaotic with becoming prefect and that Potions and Charms assignment._

_ _

_With Love,_

"What Charms assignment?" asked Ron, after reading over his shoulder. "I ¾ I don't recall any Charms assignment."

Harry looked equally pale. "Me neither. We're in deep sh*t."

"All well," Ron shrugged. "Oh, that letter reminds me." He turned around and pulled something out from his bag. "Here."

Harry took the glass box from Ron. "It's really nice. Thanks. What is it?"

"You don't know what it is?" Ron's eyes bulged like two blue marbles. "It's a Helocube. You could play three-dimensional chess with it. Oh, I'll show you at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded and turned back to the rest of his letter.

_Harry,_

_I have just met with several spies contacts of mine. Voldemort is planning something, but it's all classified and all access to any information is restricted. Fudge is still being a real jerk hesitant in accepting that the situation is as dire as it is. I want you to be alert Harry. Nothing__¾__no one__¾__ is what or who he or she appear. This is a very crucial time, Harry. Be wary._

__

_Headmaster_

"Wonderful. Voldemort's is out to get me and the Ministry is absolutely clueless and in denial," Harry muttered, folding up the letter. "What else is new?"

"Harry, I've got to get going now or Mum's going to can my bum," said Ron, tugging Cosmo out the door. The crup was growling at its own reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror. "Move, you rabid nutter! I'll see you at King's Cross, eh Harry? It's been fun, Sirius. See you."

"Wait. I'll go with you. I really need a pint at Hogshead. Bye Harry." Sirius disappeared, the door slamming behind.

Shrugging, Harry picked up the stack of paper on his bed and began sorting through them. They were blank. He frowned and finally found one with writing. It was small and looked as if it were flattened after being crumpled and torn from something else. The writing, though elegant, looked rushed and blurred from something, maybe rain.

_I'll be seeing you soon, Harry._

That was it. No signature or anything else. But that wasn't even remotely the strange part. Once Harry finished reading, the scrap of paper disappeared in his hands, leaving no trace. 

Much to Harry's disappointment, the summer holidays ended. September first was greeted by a appropriately cold and cheerless morning. The air was raw and chilly, the sky was solidly off-white gray, and Harry just couldn't keep his eyes open. 

"Why do we have to get up so-so-so early?" said Harry, failing to stifle a huge yawn. "It's barely dawn."

"I'm aware, Harry," said Sirius, apologetic. "But who knows when we'll get there using that piece of crap called a car."

Harry, nodding off, felt himself being hustled into the backseat of Sirius' Volkswagen. He shivered. The feel of having his warm sheets being torn off and his body exposed to the cold morning lingered. Half asleep, Harry heard the thumping of his trunks being loaded into the boot, the loud thud of the boot closing, and the rustling of Sirius getting into the driver's seat.

Harry woke up an hour later. It was now truly morning. Daybreak had come, and the sun was shining warmly in the pale blue sky. Harry rubbed his eyes and felt Sirius shoving his glasses into his groping hand. He put them on and blinked.

"Awake yet?"

Harry nodded groggily.

"We'll be at King's Cross in maybe twenty minutes," said Sirius. He was finishing down a muffin and alternating sipping a cup of scalding black coffee gingerly. Only one hand was on the steering wheel.

"Wanna to muffin, Harry? 'ope 'oo like bluebewy," Sirius garbled through a full mouth.

"Sure," said Harry, still trying to wake himself up.

Sirius stuffed the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and grabbed a brown bag from the passenger seat and handed it to Harry.

"'ere 'oo go, 'arry," he garbled. "'Enjoy —"

"SIRIUS! KEEP BOTH HANDS ON THE STEERING WHEEL!" Harry shouted, lunging over Sirius's seat to grab to steering wheel.

The car swerved sharply across two lanes. Sirius clamped his hands on and turned the steering wheel the other way. The car swerved back into the right lane, leaving ugly skid marks in the road while Harry toppled back in the opposite direction, his head thrust out of the opened window. A huge trolley came rumbling down the street, zooming right past his head. Harry shrunk back into his seat, breathing hard and shaking. His hair stood up on end as a result from the trolley grazing the top of his head.

"Oops, my bad," Sirius said sheepishly. "Heh, heh… hope you're alright, Harry."

Harry, still clutching the headboard of the driver's seat stiffly, sat rigidly upright, his eyes bulgingly wide open, and his face as pale as Draco Malfoy's. He stuttered in a quiet and fluttering voice, "I-I-I'm okay… _w-wide_ awake _now…"_

Muggle drivers rolled down their windows and shook their fists, shouting obscenities at Sirius, who returned the like.

"Bloody freaks," he growled, "…needn't have a stroppy…"

Harry and Sirius separated at platform nine.

"We don't need some nosy Ministry git recognizing me and starting all kinds of trouble," Sirius explained.

"I'm going to miss you," said Harry.

"Hah! You're gonna be too busy, trust me!" Sirius laughed, giving his godson a hearty hug. "I'll keep you posted. Bye, Harry."

Waving good-bye, Harry smiled, leaned into the wall, and disappeared from the Muggle world.


	3. The Sorting Hat's Mistake

Chapter three

Chapter three

THE SORTING HAT'S MISTAKE

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Ron was waving at Harry from inside the train, his entire torso out of the window.

"You get back inside, Ron!" bellowed Mrs. Weasley. "You'll fall out and break your neck!"

"Oh _dear. Then where will we be?" said Fred in mock-agony with his hand over his forehead. "One less neck for You-Know-Who to slice --"_

"That is not even remotely funny!" Mrs. Weasley snapped viciously. "Get on that train, you two!"

She scooted Fred and George Weasley onto the Hogwarts Express. Then she turned around and hugged Harry. "How was your holiday, dear? Not to stressful I hope."

Harry, overlooking the fact that he was with the Dursleys, Aunt Marge, having reoccurring nightmares with Voldemort, causing an illegal Rage Storm, nearly been killed several times in a green Volkswagen Bug, and almost eaten by a Crup, shook his head. "It was quite relaxing, Mrs. Weasley. I'm looking forward to getting back on my feet and doing some work."

Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly. "Have a wonderful year, Harry. Leave your things here and I'll see that they get loaded on. Now hurry up! You'll miss the train!"

Harry thanked her and got onto the Hogwarts Express.

"Ron's in the last compartment I think! Tell him and the others I said good-bye and to stay out of trouble! I really mean it!" Mrs. Weasley called, her voice carrying over the tumult and across the platform.

The train started up with a groan and chugged out of the station, sending cheery white puffs of smoke up into the air. When Harry cut through the swarm of changing, loading trunks, snacking, socializing, and bustling students, and found Ron's compartment, he waved at Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum! You gave me Ginny's corned beef again!" Ron hollered, still swinging his arm in the air.

"You eat what you get, Ron! Don't spend your Sickles on those Chocolate Frogs, either! And remember to change your underwear…"

Though she was quickly becoming a blurry speck as they rolled away from the station, Harry swore that he could faintly make out a stream of tears run down Mrs. Weasley's face as she watched her four youngest children leave her. He felt a vague twinge of envy towards Ron.

"By Gryffindor's ghost, when is she going to stop fussing over me like that?" Ron groused, slumping into his seat. "I know she's my mum and all, but I'm fifteen already! Really, would you want your mum suffocating you like that?"

"To tell you the truth, I wouldn't know what it's like," Harry replied coldly.

"Huh? Oh yeah… um, sorry, Harry," Ron said meekly.

Before Harry could wave off his apology, the compartment door slid open, and a harassed brunette came rummaging through, her cloak's tail whipping all over the place.

"Crookshanks? Where are you, sweetie?" said Hermione, upturning the cushions and shoving Harry aside. "Oh, hi Harry, hi Ron. Have you seen Crookshanks? I can't find him! He's run off and I haven't seen him since --" She dropped the cushions in her arms. "Oh _dear_! What if I've left him somewhere? Like in the car? With my mother and father! They're heading back to Bedford right now! What'll I do without my poor little — "

"Live with some peace and quiet, and an unscratched face?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"He must be so frightened!" Hermione sat down and continued to fret, ignoring Ron. "What if he's lost, wandering aimlessly, all alone in the world — "

"I feel sorry for the world," Harry whispered back. Something warm and furry brushed across his robes and hopped onto Hermione's lap, wagging its forked tail in the air.

"Wha -- ooh. And who might this be?" Hermione cooed, cuddling Cosmo.

"Aww. Now you've turned him all… girly," Ron groaned.

"Excuse you?" said Hermione, indignant. Cosmo settled down snugly on her lap.

"This is Cosmo," said Harry. The dog yapped at the mention of its name.

"Smart one, aren't you?" Hermione gushed, scratching his ears.

"Nah, just a bit nutty," said Ron, retrieving his dog. "He's supposed to be a Crup, but seeing how it's gushing over someone Muggle-born, Cosmo's probably too mixed."

Cosmo squirmed out of Ron's grasp, trying to return to Hermione's lap.

"A Crup? They're supposed to be ferocious," said Hermione. She eyed Cosmo's forked tail. "_And the fork in their tail was supposed to have been removed."_

"Ouch. How are you supposed to do that?" said Harry, cringing.

"With a Severing Charm. Oh, stop gaping at me like that! It's perfectly painless," said Hermione. "Just send an owl to the Department For Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and ask – "

"Can't do that," said Ron, shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Well, I sort of… I haven't got a license for keeping a wizard-dog," said Ron, sheepishly.

"HAVEN'T GOT A LICENSE!"

"Oh no, here we go," he said as Hermione swelled up like a Bullfrog.

"Why, oh, _why didn't you get a license?" Harry moaned, "or at least not tell her…"_

"Of all the _stupid -- you could get __arrested!" Hermione huffed. "And your father works for the __Ministry! He might lose his __job -- or at least think of the __embarrassment!"_

Cosmo lowered his ears in fear and covered his eyes with his forepaws. Ron stammered, "I -- I --"

"They could come and just _take Cosmo away! Or a __fine, or a -- a -- "_

"Calm down, Hermione!" Harry shouted. "The other compartments can hear your bellowing!"

"I am not bellowing!"

"Yes, you ARE!"

"SHUT UP!"

There was an awkward silence.

"Sorry," said Harry. "You… you weren't bellowing."

"Yes I was," Hermione admitted. "I just didn't want Ron to lose Cosmos."

"And _I should've gotten a license," Ron grumbled._

Another awkward silence.

"Hey!" said Hermione, breaking the tension. "I nearly forgot! Harry, here's your birthday present." She handed him a neatly wrapped package.

"What is it?" said Ron.

Harry unwrapped it. "A book."

"Oh, _blimey! Hermione got you a __book? The world's gone mad! First, Hermione buys a book. Next thing you know, Fred and George'll get a detention! Maybe from Snape, too!" said Ron, gasping and covering his mouth emphatically. _

"Oh, shut up!" said Hermione, throwing her pointed hat at him.

Harry ran his fingers over the small-print title that covered the entire leather cover. "_The Very Complete Alphabetical Dictionary of Super Duperly and Ultra Rare and/or Dangerous Beasts That are Very Pricelessly Valuable for They are Rare and/or Beasts that May and Probably Will Maim and Kill You if They Got the Chance So You'd Be Better Off Not Reading This and Becoming a Paranoid Neurotic: Special Completely Unabridged and Repetitively Redundant Edition by Phartus Smuckanderan."_

"Nice title," said Ron, sarcastically, "but it's a bit vague, tough. Mind telling me what in the world it may be about, Harry?"

Harry gave him an unamused look.

"Thanks, Hermione! I wanted to get this, but the manager at Flourish and Blotts didn't let me -- "

"A salesman tried to convince you _not to buy his merchandise?" said Ron skeptically. "Maybe I'm right. Maybe the world __has gone mad…"_

"If it hasn't, it will. You-Know-Who is lying low right now," said Hermione, "and who knows what he's planning. But still, everything's been pretty quiet…"

"I'm hoping," Harry replied. "No news is good news."

"But unfortunately for you, Potter, there is news," a cold, drawling voice suddenly informed him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked up immediately to see Draco Malfoy leaning against the doorframe. He was surveying them idly, that perpetual smirk working his mouth into a lazy contortion, and his eyes were half-closed as though he was savoring the moment. For once, he was without his thuggish cronies, and Harry thought it made him look much smaller.

"What news, Malfoy?" Harry snapped.

"Temper, temper, Potter," Malfoy mock-sighed, "I haven't even started to provoke you yet. And it's not my fault if you don't read The Daily Prophet, scarface." Ron took Malfoy's pause as a chance to utter a stream of magnificent obscenities, but the Slytherin waved them off. "I don't even want to go there today, Weasley," he sneered.

"What news?" Harry repeated, his eyebrows plummeting.

Malfoy locked Harry in a silver stare before answering. "Nothing that would interest you, just the fact that the Dark Lord has powerful supporters in the Middle East now." Harry was hit by a sudden and ridiculous vision of Lord Voldemort wearing white robes and a red checked head cloth, but he shoved it aside. "That along with increased Dark activity in Britain and Ireland, a few small Dementor rebellions in Azkaban… really, nothing important, Potter, but it is news."

Harry frowned at the ambiguous smile Malfoy was professing. "Thank you for being so informative, Malfoy," he sarcastically proclaimed. "By the way, where are your goons?"

"Off stuffing themselves," Malfoy shrugged, looking as though he could care less. "Oh, there's more news, Potter. _I'm_ the new prefect for my house. And you are not. I suppose it's because of my grades and my services to my house. You ought to bone up on your act if you want prefect privileges. All well, it's what you get if you're running off causing trouble like killing that dim-witted Hufflepuff."

Ron balled his hands up into fists, Harry folded his arms, and Hermione glared. Malfoy laughed. "Oh, I'm so scared," he faux-whined. "Don't get your knickers in a bunch. I'm only giving you the truth, Potter."

Hermione's eyes narrowed to slits. Harry and Ron, noticing this, shrank out of the way, knowing that when Hermione got mad enough to make a face, anything could happen. "You ignorant bigot! How can someone be so asinine and hopelessly infuriating? I ought unscrew that hideous head off and shove it up your bum!" she shouted, shaking a finger at Malfoy's pale face. Malfoy said something very nasty--so nasty, in fact, that it is simply not even printable--and Hermione retaliated. Right as the words fell from his lips, Hermione slapped him hard across the face. The smirk vanished, and Malfoy put a hand to his stinging jaw in something not unlike shocked horror. However, the look was replaced by a smirk once more after a few seconds.

"I've been Mud-slapped," Malfoy laughed, but his voice was frigid. "Keep your hands to yourself, Mudblood. You wouldn't want me to hit you back, would you?"

"Get the hell out of here!" Harry commanded furiously. "Now, Malfoy."

"I wasn't planning to stay," Malfoy replied coolly. With that, he spun on his heel and marched off, the glaring red patch still gracing his left cheek.

Ron reached out and slammed the door. "Oy!" he muttered. "Why the hell does he always turn up when I'm in a good mood? And that's a rhetorical question, Hermione," he added. Ron, now in an extremely rotten mood, set to work on his homework in irritable silence, leaving Hermione and Harry to try and make awkward conversation.

After about half an hour of this, Harry halted mid-sentence as he heard the door slide open behind him. "I thought I told you little freak to go away! Get the hell out of my face!" he shouted, turning around. However, as he saw whom he had been yelling at, his stomach dropped.

"I -- er -- all right, Harry," Cho Chang responded, her dark eyes wide with shock. Giving him a hurt look, she turned to leave.

Harry proceeded to mumble a certain profanity for the first time in his life and called after her frantically, rushing out into the corridor. "Cho, I'm sorry, I didn't see you, I thought you were Malfoy!" But it was too late. Cho had already vanished into another compartment. Harry felt a rush of embarrassment, and then a burst of irrational rage toward Malfoy. If the Slytherin had never come in, in the first place, Harry would not have hurt Cho's feelings, and they could be having a nice chat right now.

"Malfoy," he muttered, "I'll get you for this if it's the last thing I do."

The carriages tossed and turned as they wound along the path to the old castle. Rain had begun to pour from the sky a little harder than before, and the omniscient black clouds that hung low in the sky seemed to engulf the lands that were just barely visible over the Forbidden Forest. Thunder boomed across the sky, and lightning briefly lit it every few moments.

And yet Harry was unperturbed by all of these factors. He sat, staring blankly out the window of the carriage, sitting next to Ron. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were chattering merrily about something, but Harry was content on staring outside for the time being. Later he would talk. Now his stomach was rumbling as he realized how hungry he was. Lightning flashed abruptly, hitting something nearby; a loud cracking sound could be heard as the bolt made contact with the land. Harry felt Ron jump next to him. 

"Some storm, eh?" Ron said happily. 

"Yeah," Harry answered. "I pity the first years. It was a lot like this last year, wasn't it? Rain only, though. Solid rain, no lightning or thunder. Maybe it has something to do with…" he trailed off, knowing that the others knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Could You-Know-Who's presence change the weather, though?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Well, you never know," said Ron slowly, "he could be the one making all this happen."

"He's too weak," said Harry, turning to face them slowly. "He just rose from being half-dead for over fourteen years. I doubt he can do much of anything now."

"He can already kill," was Ron's simple answer.

"Where're they at?" Ron demanded angrily. "I'm starved."

"You've already said that," said Hermione.

"I know! And I'm saying it again, dammit!" Ron shouted.

"Well _sorry!" Hermione shouted back. "__Honestly, you didn't have to bite my head off…"_

"Don't tell me you two are going to fight the first day back," said Harry.

Ron turned away from Hermione in a huff, ignoring Harry. He poked at his empty plate. "So… hungry…"

"Wonder who our new Quidditch captain will be," said Harry, hoping to get Ron to forget his appetite.

"Dunno," he said.

"And I wonder who'll be Keeper."

"Dunno."

"What about the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor?"

"Dunno."

"Stuffing your face… typical…" Hermione continued to mutter.

Ron turned to her, livid. "Bitchin' about everything… typical…"

Harry peered about the Great Hall as the two of them bickered. He sighed. It had been an entire summer holiday since he had seen it last. Innumerable candles hovered in midair over four long, crowded tables, illuminating the golden plates and goblets. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

At the staff table, Hagrid was sitting next to Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher. Also at the staff table was Professor Trelawney, the ominous Divination teacher, talking to Professor Sprout, the dumpy Herbology teacher. 

Harry noticed that the space between Dumbledore and Professor Snape, the Potions master who utterly despised Harry since day one, was empty. The space probably belonged to the new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher. Harry grinned at the prospect that Professor Snape had once against lost the position he had coveted for years.

But as he scanned the Great Hall, he noticed that there were many gaps in the sea of pointed hats, meaning an absence of many students. But all of Slytherin was present. Even Gryffindor was missing some of their younger years. Most of the fifth years were there except for --

"Hey, Ron. Where'd Neville go?"

"Huh? Dunno. I suppose his grandmother kept him home. You know what she's like. Probably afraid Neville's going to spill Hogwarts' secrets to some Death Eater without even knowing it," Ron shrugged.

But Harry knew why. Neville's parents had gone mad after the Death Eaters tortured them. He couldn't blame Neville's grandmother for being afraid for her only grandson.

Albus Dumbledore stood up and the nervous chattering in the Great Hall stopped immediately. 

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Albus Dumbledore shouted to the first years cheerfully, "And welcome back to the rest of you! Now, I would like to begin with several announcements prior to the Sorting Ceremony. As you can see, we are missing some of our fellow students. It seems that many parents are concerned that Voldemort is still on the loose and would prefer to keep their children home."

A ripple of students shuddered and murmured uneasily.

"But be assured that we will be sending them Howlers to come back!" Dumbledore smiled.

The first years stared at him with an even greater panic in their faces. Wonderful! We have an utterly mad headmaster, Harry imagined them thinking.

"I know you are all worried. But Hogwarts is the safest place that you can be," Dumbledore said soberly. "We have some of the finest witches and wizards on our staff and this castle has been standing for more than a thousand years. Rest assured that you will all be protected from whatever happens outside of Hogwarts' campus. Also be fully aware that under _no circumstances shall there be a single Dementor anywhere near this school if I can help it…"_

But Harry wasn't fully concentrating on what Professor Dumbledore was saying. He was worried that Sirius may have been caught. But not by the Ministry, of course. He's gone this long without even being suspected. It was Voldemort that Harry was worried about. Surely he was one of the people that Voldemort and the Death Eaters would go after first.

"On a lighter note," Dumbledore continued, unruffled, "Let us also welcome our old _and new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus J. Lupin!" _

He began applauding with the first years, who had no idea who Lupin was. There was scattered applause from everyone else in the Great Hall. 

Professor Lupin stood up from between Dumbledore and Snape and took a deep bow. He wore his usual ragged and patched robes, looking older than he really was. There were many murmurs from the four house tables about the professor. Although many remembered him as the greatest Defense Against Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever had, they also recalled the rumors that he was a werewolf. 

But Harry was delighted. No Defense Against Dark Arts teacher had ever lasted at Hogwarts for more three terms, so technically Lupin would be the first to last _two years. He had not only been the best Defense Against Dark Arts teacher Harry ever had, he was also one of James Potter's closest friends. _

Harry, Ron and Hermione were among the few who were clapping and the last to stop. Harry became thoughtful. "So this is what Sirius meant…"

"Has Dumbledore gone mad? What could possibly possess him to allow that abnormality to teach here again? I will make sure that my father gets rid of Lupin before the first Defense Against Dark Arts class even starts," Draco Malfoy grumbled to Crabbe and Goyle. "He has very high connections at the Ministry of Magic."

"Oh shut your bloody trap, Malfoy," snapped Harry.

"Try and make me, Scarhead -- " Malfoy began to say, but as the headmaster continued his harangue, he broke of grudgingly.

"Now, let the Sorting Ceremony begin!"

Professor Sprout brought out the worn out and patched wizard hat and placed it on a four-legged stool. The first years, looking extremely nervous, lined up. They jumped when the hat came to life and said in a raspy voice, "Please excuse me, I, unfortunately, have a sore throat. So, (_coughs!) bear with me and listen carefully. __Echem!_

Four wise ones came together

Two-thousand years ago

To (_cough!_) make the school you've found.

Two wizards and two witches we all know,

Placed it upon this ground.

There was the daring Gryffindor,

The just Ravenclaw from Glen,

The kind and sweet Hufflepuff,

The (_hack!_) shrewd Slytherin.

And I am here to help you out,

To see where you belong,

Don't you fear of my decision,

I've never yet been wrong.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

The bravest and chivalrous the four.

And if your thoughts are quite like these

You'll sleep behind that door.

A Hufflepuff you may (_wheeze!_) well be

If patience and toil be your code

You'll find hard workers just like you

In that humble (_cough! cough!_) abode.

If Ravenclaw is your home

Then you're a clever git

They pride themselves on their skills

Of (_cough!_) learning and of wit.

Or maybe you're a Slytherin,

Ambitious one are you.

A cunning group of students,

And (_cough!_) very determined, too.

So put me snug upon your head

You'll find me quite the key

To finding you a perfect home

'Cause none can tell but me!

The Great Hall broke into a polite applause as Professor Sprout unrolled a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call your name, please step up and place the Sorting Hat on your head," she addressed the first years. "Then go to your appropriate house"

"Come on! Hurry up, I'm starving!" Ron whined.

"Oh, shut up, Ron! You're hungry every time there's a Sorting Ceremony!" Hermione hissed. 

"Of course. His parents can't afford to feed him properly, especially with their wages and with that many kids," Malfoy snickered to a couple of Slytherins, who were muffling their laughter behind their hands. 

"Avoriansomen, Lemony!"

"Hmm, HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted sorely.

The Hufflepuff table clapped lightly when a lanky boy scurried to them. 

"How does a hat have a sore throat?" Harry asked.

"Well it has a mouth, I suppose, so I guess it has a throat?" Hermione said uncertainly.

"Baintin, Hazel!"

"(_Cough! Cough)RAVENCLAW!"_

Ron's hungry moans were drowned out by the applause at their table. Soon, the line of first years got shorter and shorter as Professor Sprout announced,

"Ethelwulf, Hattie! (Slytherin),

Lancaster, Evangelene! (Ravenclaw),

"We're not having much look this year, are we?" Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, muttered crossly.

"No, we're not," said Harry. "You'd think we'd have at least one Gryffindor by now."

Norkwith, Frances! (Slytherin)."

"I wonder where Professor McGonagall is," Hermione whispered as Joey Dassal was placed in Hufflepuff, "I need to ask her about the human transfiguration mentioned in the new textbook."

"Normandy, Chandler! (Gryffindor)," the Hat shouted.

The Gryffindor applauded loudly ("Finally!" said Nearly-Headless Nick) the blue-eyed brunette as he sat down.

Harry's eyes wandered about the Great Hall and caught sight of Cho Chang applauding "Rokechest, Maximilian!" at the Ravenclaw table. Harry sighed, suddenly needing to lean on his head on his hand.

After another fifteen minutes, the Sorting Ceremony ended rather quickly with "Snicket, Beatrice!" (Gryffindor) and Ron heaved a sigh of relief.

"Finally! Time for some grub!" said Ron, rubbing his hands together greedily.

But when Dumbledore stood up to make another announcement, Ron groaned and began pouting. The ancient wizard spoke loudly and crisply,

"Now that the Sorting Ceremony is done, I would also like to introduce a new fifth year transfer student from Beauxbatons, France. I hope you will all welcome her to Hogwarts. I present to you Harmony Lupin."

Dumbledore stepped back, revealing a pretty girl in Hogswarts robes. She was slender but looked quite formidable, standing proudly with her stubborn, hard chin in the air. Her unbound hair fell in to her shoulders in dark red locks. Despite her scowl and the evil glint in her emerald eyes,boys ogled at her some girls (even Hermione) eyed her resentfully. Ron, remembering Fleur, a Veela girl also from Beauxbatons in the Triwizard Tournament last year, gazed at Harmony and forgot about his growling stomach. Even Malfoy murmured approvingly with great interest, even though Harry doubted the Slytherin's heterosexuality. 

That's a whole lot of disarray over just some girl, Harry thought. But why hadn't he seen her on the Hogwarts Express?

Harmony stepped coyly into the center of the Great Hall and placed the Sorting Hat on with nervous hands, grinning apprehensively. Harry frowned. It was all a game to her! Was he the _only_ one who saw that she was faking her shy pretense? Apparently, he was: Ron crossed his fingers and whispered desperately, "Gryffindor, please say Gryffindor!" 

"What?" the girl hissed from beneath the hat. "No! But -- but -- _do you know who I am_?"

It took nearly five minutes of struggling with the girl before the Sorting Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

Ron's face fell as the other Gryffindor boys groaned. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin looked extremely pleased and smug until Harmony gasped,

"WHAT? WHAT DID YOU SAY?" and stomped her foot on the ground, her combat boots slamming down on the marble floor. Everyone in the Great Hall jumped at the sudden loud and echoing noise. "I told you! I am NOT going with themBLOODY SLYTHERINS!"

"Well… that is TOO BAD!" the Sorting Hat shouted equally as loud, "I HAVE MADE UP MY MIND!" (I thought he had a sore throat, Hermione whispered)

"YOU BETTER PUT ME IN GRYFFINDOR OR ELSE!" screamed Harmony.

"OR ELSE WHAT?"

With a frustrated growl, Harmony grabbed the hat as it was struggling to free it self and began tearing the already frayed fabric. A deafening cry from the hat filled the hall accompanied a thin ripping sound. Everyone gasped and Malfoy shrieked. 

"F -- F -- FINE…G -- G -- GRYFFINDOR… GRYFFINDOR IT IS! JUST STOP THE PAIN… THE MADNESS… THE INSANITY!" the hat wailed in despair, whimpering as it was freed from the girl's hands.

"B -- B -- But remember this! Slytherin could have helped you become G -- G -- GREAT! You've got Slytherin blood running through you! But noooo, don't listen to _ME! I'm just a friggin'MAGIC HAT!" the hat trailed off, hopping out of the Great Hall with Professor Sprout scrambling dumpily after it._

"Well bravo for you, you worn-out, piece of --" Harmony gestured obscenely, cussing with very unique language.

Ron and the other Gryffindors shot a triumphant look at the Slytherin table. Harmony strode to the Gryffindor table, looking very pleased with herself, and took an empty seat next to Harry. 

When the banquet began, the Great Hall gradually began to become filled with chatters again. The golden dishes before them suddenly began to fill up with food, one by one, and everyone became more at ease after Dumbledore's speech.

Ron kept gazing at Harmony admiringly instead of gobbling down a meat pie like Harry. She, however, kept glancing at Harry as if assessing him.

"Bugger. You are a very cute one." George leaned over and said playfully to the girl, "Oh dainty blossom of my rose, you are the radiance of this darkness known as reality, the sparkle in my eyes, the jewel --" 

Harmony pressed two fingers firmly on his throat and rolled her eyes. "Don't hassle me."

"Can't… speak…" George wheezed hoarsely. "pressure points… pain… can't… breathe…"

"That's kind of the point, genius," she said, exasperated. 

"Well you see," said Fred, speaking for his twin, "he thinks you're _pretty_; he wants to _snog_ you; he _fancies_ you; our little Georgie's in _love_ — "

"Grrrr," George growled, or at best, tried to with his trachea strained. Harmony let go and he inhaled deeply.

"Don't exaggerate. I only put enough pressure to obstruct your voice box, not your air passage," Harmony informed him casually.

"Oh, it wasn't that," George sighed. "I lose my breath when I'm in love…" 

Fred dragged him away by the ear, apologizing to Harmony, and Ron glared after them. "It's wrong," he said sullenly, "they're two years older! It's impracticable! It's like -- it's like -- "

"You and Fleur?" said Hermione scathingly. "Honestly! Fleur was just a -- a veela! She was hardly even _human_!"

"Veela!" said Ron, ignoring Hermione. "Harmony's a veela!"

Harry shook his head. "No, she's not blonde nor has anyone gone mad over her. Besides, she can overhear you."

Ron glanced towards Harmony on Harry's other side and turned beat red again. "If she doesn't reject me, she'll probably beat the crap out of me."

All of a sudden, Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall in a hurry and approached Hermione. 

"Oh my -- Professor McGonagall, what happened?!" Hermione exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall's usual tightly done hair laid in a disheveled bun with hair sticking out at odd ends. There also appeared to be glittering green ink splattered all over her face and taut robe. Her thick glasses lay crookedly on her nose, magnifying only her left eye.

"Oh, that. Just a little problem with the Choosing Quill. Hermione, could I count on you to help get Harmony used to Hogwarts?" 

"Of course, Professor McGonagall!" Hermione said, bubbling with joy at her new responsibility. 

"What's the Choosing Quill?" Harry asked.

"Sorry, no time! I've got to run!" Professor McGonagall said dashing awkwardly out of the Great Hall. Harry didn't think someone as prim as Professor McGonagall actually rushed when doing anything, much less run.

"Hello, my name is Hermione Granger," Hermione said happily, forgetting her envy towards Harmony. "How are you? How's your family? What do you think of Hogswarts so far and what was your grade average?"

"Alright, Granger, you're a bit too hyper for me. Chill," said Harmony, backing away.

"Sorry. Oh, and this is Ron Weasley," said Hermione, offhandedly. "And this is -- " 

"Harry Potter," Harmony said, raising her eyebrows. She didn't seem in admiration or revulsion. There was a finality in her tone that gave Harry an uneasy feeling. He shifted nervously as he saw her big green eyes stare right through him, taking no notice of his scar. "Umm, yeah," Harry said.

"Hmm. Alright then," Harmony said indifferently. 

Harry smiled nervously. Though relieved that he wasn't going to have another Colin Creevy on his hands, Harry felt something amiss. "Harmony, have I seen you before -- ?"

"You're Weasley, right?" Harmony asked abruptly, turning away from Harry and conveniently changing the subject.

Ron nodded vaguely, trying not to blush.

"What do your parents do?"

"Oh, uh…well, my father works for the Ministry of Magic in the…uh…the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department," he answered quickly. Ron wasn't too excited to talk about his family's circumstances, especially to a girl he was trying to impress. But to his surprise, Harmony replied pleasantly,

"Oh, then Arthur Weasley's your father, right? Misuse of the Muggles Department? I met him once when I was fined for having shooting practice with a .45 revolver. You see, I wasn't quite misusing it. But I think what the Ministry was concerned with was that I was still four… but that's another story!" she laughed nervously. "So, uh, father in the Ministry, huh? Must be interesting, eh?"

"Well, not really," Ron replied casually, feeling more confidant, "Of course, he _is entrusted with some very important responsibilities, mind you."_

Harry said nothing but kept staring at Harmony with puzzlement. He knew he had seen her before; somewhere a long time ago… Apparently Malfoy noticed and began striding over to their table with Crabbe and Goyle, his cronies, tagging closely behind.

"Well, well, well. Eyeing the new girl already, are we?" he sneered.

Harry glared back at him.

Harmony must have not noticed (or chose to ignore them), as she was in a rapid argument with George Weasley over Quidditch. But their quarrel was interrupted when Malfoy forgot about Harry and shifted his attention to Harmony.

"Harmony, was it? It's too bad you aren't in Slytherin. You really shouldn't mix with a crowd like _them," Malfoy motioned at Harry, Hermione and Ron, who seemed to be fighting the urge to bash his head in. "Especially since this coterie is composed of a pathetic mudblooded witch, and a Muggle-raised, self-aggrandizing wizard who shouldn't even be here. Don't even get me started with the Weasleys; they've got more kids than they can afford --which isn't a lot -- and __still manage to be Muggle lovers. They're a real waste of wizard blood if you ask __me ("No one did," Ron gritted his teeth). But don't worry, I can still help you out. My father has very high connections in the school council."_

Right about now, Harry and Hermione were just about as furious as Ron was. If it weren't for Crabbe and Goyle, they would have all lunged at Malfoy's throat.

"Look, Albino-boy," Harmony snapped, "who the hell do you think you are? You are in no position to determine what I should do! Especially being the slimy Slytherin you are; stick to your own twisted blue-blooded girls and quit hitting on me. So piss off," she ended with a mocking grin, baring her very white and very straight teeth.

Malfoy was about to retaliate, but changed his mind. "All well, I suppose it's too bad you want to fraternize with such… pathetic moral do-gooders. But if you get tired of this game, you know _I'll always be available."_

Harmony scoffed and turned back to Ron, Hermione and Harry, "Rich weedy little blonde bas -- "

"Why are you having such a stroppy?" Harry dared to say.

"What stroppy? I'm not having a stroppy," Harmony frowned.

"You have a lot of rage inside, it seems," Hermione said quietly. "A lot."

"Damn straight," Harmony muttered.

"You look beautiful when you're angry," Ron sighed. She scowled.

"Whatever. It's just that stuck-up little Slytherin wanker!" Harmony hissed, cracking her knuckles. "If he's not careful, I'm gonna teach him a thing or two…" 

"His name's Draco Malfoy," Harry said contritely. "He's not a particularly… pleasant person." 

"_Draco Malfoy? What kind of freak name is that?" Harmony snickered. "But my name's _Harmony_, so I shouldn't say anything. Horrible name… you'd think I was some brainless, goody-goody perfect little Mary Sue blonde… Ooh, what I'd give to crack their pretty little heads against my knee…"_

"I think Harmony is a very pretty name…" said Ron, leaning on his hand.

"Right. So what is up with this Malfoy kid? Is he like an albino or just a really weedy bloke with wide pockets?" said Harmony, ignoring him.

"A bit of the first and second," said Harry, starting on the dessert. "Lucius Malfoy's his father, and they both have really got it in for Gryffindors, especially me. Malfoy's kind of my… rival."

"How thick can Albino-boy be?" said Harmony. "Try and rival Harry Potter. Smart. Like pissing me off: stupid and suicidal."

"Well, Malfoy's bad all around, so trying to challenge Harry is the least of his flaws," said Hermione, nibbling on the sultana. "He's spiteful, conniving, prejudiced — "

"He's not prejudiced," said Ron (0still turning pink when Harmony looked at him), "He hates everybody: Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, muggles, muggle-borns, animals, organized government and religion, decent people -- " 

"Wait," Hermione interrupted Ron, "Are you perhaps related to Professor Lupin in any way?"

"Oh. Yeah, _that. My parents died when I was one during the Dark Lord's crusade so I live my Uncle Remus and we've been traveling around a lot since being a werewolf makes him some kind of fugitive and because he's teaching here at Hogwarts I thought I might as well transfer, hoping that I might stay here for longer than albino-boy's package," she replied in one quick breath. "Anyway, how's Gryffindor's Quidditch team?"_

Before Harry could ask her why she didn't transfer two years ago, Fred sent a paper airplane flying at his head. Skimming his class schedules, Harry muttered, "That girl really scares me. Talk about mental issues and a morbid outlook on violence."

When the feast was over, everyone filtered out from the Great Hall and retired to their dorms. There was a gentle breeze flowing through the campus, causing an eerie calm. The night was crisp and brisk; the castle stood still and peaceful.

Hiking up the stone steps, Harry heard frustrated screaming from a small room in a side landing. It was Professor McGonagall.

"Stop! Forget it -- she's already here!"

"Um, professor? Is everything alright?" said Harry, peering inside. The room was small and closed, like a closet. There were envelopes and pieces of parchment all over the place, all splattered in green ink.

"No, no really," Professor McGonagall sighed. A regal black raven quill was on a small table tucked in a corner, writing on its own.

"What's that?"

The professor turned around. "Oh, that's the Choosing Quill. It keeps track of every witch and wizard that is born, then sends them an invitation to Hogwarts when they turn eleven. I believe you remember yours?"

Harry nodded. Hogwarts had sent him hundreds of them because Uncle Vernon wouldn't let him read them. They bombarded number four, Privet Drive, with the letters everyday; crammed into door slots, window cracks, hid in the groceries, and even poured down the chimney. It was quite very funny as Harry recalled it…

The Choosing Quill began sputtering as it got dry, dunked itself into a bottle of sparkly green ink, and splashed that all over the room. Harry took off his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his robes. Professor McGonagall sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"I'm very sorry," she said, tilting her glasses back on her nose, "but the Choosing Quill's been on the fritz ever since I tried controlling it. That quill belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, like the Sorting Hat belonged to Godric Gryffindor, and they aren't supposed to be controlled. That's why they are trusted to make important and impartial judgment."

"Like who gets to come to Hogwarts and which house the get into?" said Harry. The professor nodded. "But why did you want to control it for?"

Professor McGonagall was taken aback. "Why? I needed to, um… it had to …it had to do with Harmony Lupin's transfer. The quill wouldn't accept a fifth year who wasn't within the United Kingdom region when she was eleven, and she's rostered at Beauxbatons and I wanted the letter mailed under another name… it's all very complicated."

She looked at Harry meaningfully, almost motherly.

"How are you, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "Fine, I suppose. Good night, professor. I should -- "

The quill sputtered at an ink clog and tried to blow it out. The result was a new spray of ink raining down on Harry and Professor McGonagall.

" -- get going."

Harry left as the professor shouted with language that he was sure Hermione wouldn't be pleased to know about.

Ron, Hermione and Harmony were waiting for Harry at the Fat Lady Painting, which swung open to reveal the hole that led to Gryffindor's common room when Hermione said, "Bugaboo." She, Harry, Ron and Harmony ducked inside. The common room was empty, as it was getting towards midnight. So, the four of them parted their ways into their dorms.

That night, Harry and Ron were wide-awake while Dean, Seamus and Neville slept soundly.

"That Harmony is really something, huh?" Ron murmured dreamily.

"Yeah, sure. But doesn't she remind you of someone?" asked Harry.

"Well, I guess she does kinda remind me of Fleur, but prettier," Ron said mindfully. "I'll say, they make 'em real nice at Beauxbatons."

"No, not Fleur. Didn't you notice that Harmony wasn't on the Hogwarts Expre-," Harry was cut off by Ron's loud snore.

Harry lay back on his pillow and gazed outside of his window. He saw Hedwig flying around the campus, hunting for mice. Then he saw another snow owl appear next to Hedwig, giving her what looked like a dead rat affectionately. Suddenly, before Harry could get a closer look of the other owl, he looked down and saw Harmony walking with Dumbledore. Harry assumed he was showing her around the campus. 

They both looked up and waved. Harry waved back. Suddenly, his scar began to quiver when he caught sight of Harmony's eyes. But after they left, his scar settled down. When he took another look outside, Hedwig and her new friend had also disappeared. He wondered if he should write to Sirius. His scar didn't exactly hurt, just _quivered._

_Harry leaned back and sighed. He had no idea where Sirius was since they separated at King's Cross station. Just when he thought he couldn't feel more anxious, Harry remembered that he had Double Potions first thing the next day. _

"Tomorrow's going suck…" Harry yawned, taking his glasses off. 

But his heart skipped a beat when he realized Professor Lupin was back. "Maybe tomorrow won't be _too bad…"_

Harry would've wondered why Lupin had come back, but it was getting late. With one final glance at the window for Hedwig, Harry drifted off. But as he fell asleep, Harry murmured, "mum…" and never would remember doing so.

A/N: damn, I hate this chapter. I hate the entire bloody story. I wouldn't post this thing that I wrote last year, but you people seem to like it. Well, I couldn't decide how to introduce Harmony, so I went with a cliché Mary-Sue. But that's not what she is; she's not perky, happy and perfect, and doesn't brighten the lives of the HP characters (she kinda brings a cloud of doom to them). She's kind of a bitch, huh? Well, don't worry about her; she's not important until the end, so you could ignore her for now. But it is fun writing about how bitchy and human she is. BTW, I didn't create the sorting hat's song, but I can't remember who did. I'd like to credit her/him, but no one cares anyway. PS, Mary-sues all must die J


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